Write It Down
by Foxie
Summary: Yoji has use for Aya's writing skills. AY
1. Request

A/N: Let's be honest here. This started out as a little musing of what I had inside my head, then turned out to be Aya's POV and from there it transformed into a piece of FanFiction, that for a start was supposed to be a one-shot, but since the plot that crossed my mind was too long, will be a multi-parter. I don't know what this will come out to be. Choosing the genre, even, was difficult.   
Anyway, I will continue eventually, but not soon. Most likely. Who knows. I hate promising, since whenever I do that I always have to break the promise somehow. Maybe I won't continue at all and the same thing'll happen to this that happened to my previous WK multi-parter. (a.k.a. Mr. Trashcan)  
One more thing. I don't remember ever writing from the first person point of view. I might have done that, but don't remember. Don't ask why I told you this.   
And guess who is babbling too much again?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~   
  
~ Write It Down ~  
  
Chapter 1 : Request  
  
Aya POV  
  
'I know what this world is about. I know it's not pink rose petals and candyfloss clouds. I have seen the dark sides of it perhaps too closely for my own good and I know how cold it can be, how much it can hurt you. That's why I am what I seem to be. Cold, emotionless; a bastard who has created himself an armour of ice and lets no one near him.   
  
I am comfortable with it. It's my hideout, my only way to survive. I am afraid that if someday I was able to smile, laugh and love, that if someday the sun shone and birds sang, I would wake up. The worst would be to notice that it had all been a dream and that I had lived all my life in a twenty-minute moment, and for nothing. That it all would still be ahead.  
  
I know what I'm said to be, and I completely agree, for I am trapped into a cold, dark cave that has no entry and with every step I take my body is cut, wounded. Usually it's the heart and that's why I don't use it too much for feeling. I need it to run my blood-circulation, since I still have one.   
  
I want to secure my back. When I kill, I kill and don't hesitate. I have to be sure I'm doing everything correctly so that when the joyful day comes and I die, I have nothing that I'd be sorry for not doing.   
  
Even though I am eagerly waiting for death I don't rush it. I know it comes when the time is right; when I've been here long enough. There is no reason for me to slit my wrists or sent bullet through my brains just to get out of here. First of all, I'd die unhappy and secondly I would regret it. I am sure of it.   
  
Life hurts, that's the cruel truth, if something.'  
  
I put down the pen I held and read through what I had written. It was the same jazz day after day, but if it helped even a little for me to write it down, it was bearable. Even though I felt like a depressed teenager writing dark poetry, I still wrote. It was a hobby, you could say.  
  
When I wrote, I wanted everything to be true. I hate to lie, most of all to myself. True, I wear my armour daily, but that's the truth to those who 'know' me, so it's not exactly lying. It is true too, that I keep some things to myself, but that's not lying either. I myself am someone I can't lie to, and I try to avoid it.  
  
Toying with the pen I held, I began to wonder why I even wrote. I could only have spoken out loud or just simply thought of what I had in mind. Maybe writing was something that represented the truth to me. I had evidence about what I had thought then and then and it helped me to keep the small bits of sanity that I still carried, together.   
  
There was a knock on the door and with a practised routine I crumpled the sheet of paper and threw it into the trash can. Then with a quick move I swiped away the pen and picked up a book from my nightstand.  
  
"What?" I asked whomever was behind my door.   
  
"You wanna eat?"  
  
It was the walking cancer-hazard's voice. He kept on pounding my door with his knuckles even though he very much likely understood that I had heard him.   
  
"Why would I?" I retorted, now actually paying attention to the text on the book I had first only pretended to be reading.   
  
"Sorry, forgot you don't do such earthly things," was the mocking reply from outside the door and soon after I heard footsteps retreating. I knew he would walk to the two others and soon Omi would come running behind my door, perhaps even slam to it in his hurry, and ask worriedly if everything was alright.   
  
They all just cared a little bit too much. Well, exception and bonus points for Yoji though. I don't think he had ever given a spinning shit about me or my mood. If something happened to me on a mission he usually just asked if there was something terribly wrong. If there wasn't he didn't stay to worry about smaller wounds; it was the two others' task.   
  
There was another knock on the door and, just as I had expected, I heard Omi's worried voice ask if everything was alright. I smiled faintly to myself and informed the little empath that I was perfectly fine and that I just wasn't hungry.  
  
I could almost hear him staring at the door worriedly and the turning away with a sigh. The others would all eat more today than usually.   
  
~*~  
  
I hadn't remembered that the book I was reading had been so interesting. I had kept it on my table only as a scene if anyone ever happened to walk in when I was writing. I had planned that if that ever happened I could always say that I was only copying something from the aforementioned book. No one would ask me any details, since as far as I knew I was the only one of us who ever bothers to do something cultivating.   
  
My thoughts were distracted by a one more knock on my door. Taking a quick look on the clock on my nightstand I realized it had been nearly two hours since Omi had given up on trying to feed me.   
  
I sighed and put down my book.  
  
"What now?" I asked irritably.   
  
The door opened and I saw Yoji standing there, leaning now to the doorframe.  
  
"Yes?" I asked trying to sound as if I didn't want anyone to annoy me. To make it clearer I returned to the book and wished it would drive the man away.   
  
Yoji took a step forward, closed the door, walked across the floor and sat down on a chair on the opposite wall of my bed where I was sitting and reading.   
  
I didn't bother to use the questioning 'Yes?' again, so I just looked at him, my glare asking what the hell did he exactly want.   
  
A not-promising smirk appeared on his face. He crossed his fingers and leaned a little bit forward, trying to look somewhat cunning. To me it didn't have the right effect but most likely he believed in it, so maybe that was all that mattered there.  
  
"I didn't know you were much of a writer," he said with a smug grin. "But apparently you are."  
  
I shot him a death glare, that anyone who somehow managed to read what I had written always receives and told him to explain. He took a familiar looking piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it in the air.   
  
"I found this laying around and was curious. Anyone would recognize your kanji and since I was PI and all, it was easy to figure out who the poet is."  
  
"And I suppose you read it," I breathed. I must have looked very suffering then since the chair-invader grinned sadistically. I knew, somehow, that telling me I wasn't a bad writer wasn't the only thing he had come and invaded my chair.   
  
"I said I recognized your kanji, didn't I? Anyway, I need you to do me a favor."  
  
I closed my eyes for a moment and slowly began to count to ten. No, triple it. It wouldn't be long until I'd jump up, get my katana and stuff it through the sad excuse of brains the blonde had inside his head. If I were lucky I might hit something vital.   
"What do you want?" I opened my eyes and sighed quietly. I wanted the idiot out of my hair. He had interrupted my moment of disappearing into a non-existent world.   
  
"Well... There is this ladyfriend of mine-"  
  
"I don't write that kind of rubbish," I informed, hoping the discussion would be over by that.   
  
"Aya, please, my ass is on the line here!"  
  
"Well, frankly, I don't give a damn about your ass. Now move that part of yours I don't give a damn about out of that door over there and leave me alone," I told him, but apparently his thick skull didn't let such an un-important information reach his brains.   
  
"Aya... Please," he used his best impersonation of Omi's puppy-dog face and tried to make me give in. That looked worked on me when used by Omi, but because of years' training to learn how to ignore Yoji's attempts to try and use me for his twisted schemes, I ignored the look on the blonde's face.  
  
"No."  
  
"Please."  
  
"I told no once, no, twice, and am not going to say it anymore."  
  
"Please."  
  
"You can keep on doing that for the whole evening, for all I care."  
  
"Please, Aya, please."  
  
This was beginning to really bug me. It wasn't long until Yoji was spitting out ten 'please' s in a minute and driving me to the wall. Apparently it was his way to make me yield, and it, sadly for me, worked.  
  
"Alright! Anything if you just stop that," I snapped. "But no overly-tacky mush."  
  
I could have sworn there were stars in Yoji's eyes as he thanked me and told me I was his guardian angel. Ignoring the fact that I wasn't, I told Yoji to drag his being out of the door and promised to return to this 'please, write something romantic for my ladyfriend for me, please' issue later.   
  
The door finally shut, I sighed deeply and returned to my book, silently wondering what the hell I had just done.   
  
~*~ TBC? ~*~  
  
So, how bad was it? Leave a review if you want me to continue. I'll get loads of motivation from reviews. *hint hint* ^^ And by the way, does anyone else think the plot is very predictable?  
Is 'empath' a word? 


	2. Inspiration

A/N: I'm terribly sorry it took so long. The reason I've been slow, is that I have barely had the time to breathe during the past few weeks. Tests, tests and a little more tests. Thank God it's over now. Two weeks left and then I can have my well-earned summer vacation. Yay!  
  
I wrote this chapter in a train with a laptop I managed to crash and so made the whole goddamned text disappear in to nothingness. This version here is the re-written one, and if I remember correctly, it's not as good as the original was. Damn... Life is a real bitch sometimes. But you get used to it.   
  
Okay, on with the damn thing.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 2 : Inspiration  
  
I woke up, breathing heavily and only one thought running in my head: 'Please, don't let it be the way I'm afraid it is.' Slowly I opened my eyes and looked around. Very carefully. Sadly, it was exactly how I had feared it would be; I was a kid.  
  
Dream.   
  
It had all been nothing but a dream.  
  
Wasn't this what I had so much been afraid of?  
  
Waking up and realizing it had all been a dream. Nothing but a dream. The deaths, the accidents the losses. All of them, nothing but a dream.  
  
Gasping, I opened my eyes again. It was a dream. Who in the hell would dream about having a dream you never dreamed to have? Once again I had proven myself original.   
  
I sat up on my bed and wiped away the few droplets of sweat from my forehead. I made a mental note not to think about such disturbing things as dreaming of it all having been a dream. Or something. Now I had confused myself.   
  
I sighed, it had become a habit, and tried to sleep again. Obviously the dream had been a little bit to disturbing and my subconscious was telling me to keep from dozing off again. I tried to distract it in many ways; by thinking the dream hadn't been so bad after all, for example.   
  
My mind was not easily fooled and perhaps I should have known it myself.   
  
Only to come up with something else instead of sleeping - I didn't like sleeping that much, after all - I dug up my loyal writing block and looked for my pen from under the bed where it had most likely disappeared to after I had wiped it away last night. I stared at the blank piece of paper in front of me and tried to catch the inspiration I knew was lurking somewhere behind the corner.   
  
The inspiration wasn't stupid either. It refused to come out and I could almost hear it laughing at me from its well-hidden location. It was surprisingly difficult trying to glare death to something that's not visible.   
  
I rolled the pen in my hands, glanced out of the window every now and then and sighed meaningfully, only to hint the inspiration that I needed it. And soon, please. 'The question for inspiration is uttered but never understood', I thought to myself and wrote the words down to the paper.   
  
Soon I had scribbled a not-so-very-good rambling about how inspiration was being bitchy when it refused to appear and how it was difficult to write about something you had never known.   
  
The last thought made me remember the request my idiotic, blonde teammate had given me and to beat myself for promising to fulfill it. I simply didn't write romantic sap. It wasn't my style and would never be. I couldn't write a proper Shakespearean sonnet no matter what.  
  
I tried to sketch a love-mush of some sort in my head, only to find myself failing miserably. Then I decided just to take the pen and start scratching. Something would always appear, it had been proven. I had proven it. Anything could be written anytime, anywhere if you didn't care about the quality.  
  
This time it didn't work. After staring at the paper and the pen for a moment longer I decided it was their fault that I couldn't write properly tonight. They were obviously the wrong sort.  
  
It should have been easy. All I had to do was to think how Yoji would think. That would have to be as twisted as possible but also disgustingly flirty. Sweet nothings here and there, praises of the beauty of the one who was supposed to receive the poem written by 'Yoji' and some random ranting about other necessities the amore poems held inside them. I had read enough to know.  
  
'Roses are red, violets are blue, sorry, but this is the best I can do', I wrote quickly in huge Western characters that I hoped Yoji wouldn't be able to read. Inside my mind I was creating a funny little play of what would happen if Yoji, unable to read the text I had given him, only gave the paper to his date who could read it. The mental image of furious Yoji coming to me, seeking for quick and painful revenge was very amusing.   
  
Then again, Yoji could read Western letters, everybody could, and even if he would come seeking for revenge I had my precious katana, and I knew how to use it.   
  
~  
  
I woke up for the third time in a sitting position, the pen and the writing block still in my grasp. I had obviously fallen asleep during some of my ponderous moments and continued the finally achieved rest for the whole night.  
  
The strange thing was, that it had been the rays of the sun that had woken me up instead of my regular alarm clock and that could only mean for one thing. I had slept late.  
  
Rubbing my forehead and yawning very un-me likely I turned my eyes to the clock on my table. Damn it and damn me. It was three hours past my usual six-o-clock wake up and the cursed alarm clock hadn't bothered to wake me up. I gave it the glare of painful death I had attempted to use on the inspiration sometime in the early/late morning.   
  
As if the waking up late and in a sitting position that had caused my entire spine to shrink in to a painful pile of bone, I had to see a grinning, very awake looking Yoji standing in my doorway. Apparently he was being very happy about, for once, being up before me.  
  
"Morning. Omi thinks you're sick so don't be surprised if he'll bring you soup," he told me.  
  
I only scowled at him as a reply trying to get my spine back in to shape by stretching my arms and back. As I noticed he was still standing in the doorway, leaning to the doorframe, I stopped.   
  
"I haven't written anything yet," I told him hoping to make him leave.   
  
"Yes you have. 'How to speak of something you don't know? How to speak of love?' Except that it had nothing to do with the poem you promised to write," he informed me. The fact that he had obviously snatched my writing block from me without me knowing it, read the random rambling and then returned the block to me was very disturbing.  
  
"And by the way, if I tell her that the best I can do is the good old 'roses are red, violets are blue', she'll most likely eat me alive."  
  
"Wouldn't you like that," I mumbled under my breath and moved my writing equipment away. I heard him snort and - from the corner of my eye - saw him shaking his head. I wanted to ask why, but I had decided to get him leave and starting up a conversation was not a good way to do that.  
  
We both heard footsteps coming towards my door and turned to see it was Omi, just as Yoji had predicted, bringing me soup. He had a sincere look of concern on his face as he asked me if I was feeling well.   
  
"I only slept late," I told him. His face fell a little, as a sign of disappointment for making me soup in vain.   
  
"I can eat it, Omi, it's not a problem," I promised.  
  
"No, you don't have to. It was silly of me to be so concerned," he said and was already turning away to leave.  
  
"Give the soup here and stop pouting," I commanded and managed to get the soup. I thanked the kid who was seemingly relieved that his cooking was wanted.   
  
As soon as his footsteps had faded I put the bowl on my desk and stretched my back a little more. It made a nasty cracking sound and for a moment I was sure it had snapped. Since I still was able to stand I figured it hadn't.  
  
Quickly glancing sidewards I saw Yoji was still standing in the doorway.  
  
"Do you have superglue in your shoes and elbow?" I asked managing to sound very sarcastic.   
  
"Yeah, someone had put some in them last night," he replied with his familiar disgustingly smug grin. I suddenly had a great urge to throw him with something. With a katana perhaps. He was easier to hit than helicopters, anyway.   
  
"Let's make this clear: you leave the room and get to work and I'll come down too as fast as I can, and once the working hours have finished, I'll start with that stupid poem of yours."  
  
This time Yoji did leave.   
  
I sighed, for at least the twelfth time during the past 20 hours and hit myself with my writing block.   
  
~*~TBC~*~  
  
That 'How to speak of something you don't know? How to speak of love?' thing is from a poem written by ME and therefore I will bite anyone who steals those lines. Like anyone would feel like stealing it…^^   
  
The next chapter will be up someday, and will probably be Yoji POV. If I can find a way to write him right, that is.   
  
And you know what motivates me. *wink wink* (just in case you –don't- know, it's the reviews) 


	3. Result

A/N: ^^;;; Eh... I am very deeply sorry for being so goddamn slow. Mind you, I wrote this chapter about three times over and was never satisfied. Tells something about how I rarely write from Yoji's POV and the way I am a bit too critical about my own work. This version, anyhow, is the combination of all those three other versions, and I hope it doesn't stink.  
  
Yup, yup. Now go and read it.  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Write It Down  
  
Chapter 3 : Result  
  
A mad Aya was always a funny thing to look at. All that fury that was burning in those eyes was somehow amusing and kind of intimidating at the same time, and yet I had to stare back and grin like an idiot. Of course he shooed me with just one look but I, once again, enjoyed the fact that I had managed to make him pissed. And as a first thing in the morning, too. This was becoming a good day.   
  
It was funny to see how Aya actually bothered to concentrate on my request. It wasn't like I had expected him to write a single word for me. Anyhow, he had promised to, and I was going to take care that he really did. Even if my ass wasn't on the line there, I still would have made sure that Aya wrote every single word very carefully and professionally.  
  
What made this even more entertaining was, that I knew Aya did not write of romantic issues. The man was a walking lump of angst and self-hatred, I had read enough of his supposedly secret little musings to know. It was about time for him to change a little.   
  
As I walked down the stairs I couldn't help but to grin to myself. Since Aya had slept late, I had to take his shift; a little something Aya would never forgive me. Not even after he had ran after me with his precious katana and sliced my head with it. Not that I was too thrilled of having a morning shift, though, but since I was awake I could as well make it. And I would be rewarded with Aya's 'I hate you even in the afterlife, forever'-glare, so it was worth it.   
  
Ken was already downstairs, sweeping the floor as I told him that I would share the shift with him. Truth to be said he was outwardly surprised to see me up this early and about to die when I told him that Aya had slept late. I made a random mocking comment about how the little sleeping beauty had forgotten that one hundred years had already gone by and went to get my apron.   
  
Working from nine o'clock until noon was tiring. I hadn't remembered why I hated the morning shifts above all until I almost fell asleep on the counter sometime before eleven. I stuffed my face with coffee so strong I was afraid that if it attacked it would harm me more than Aya would.   
  
It was difficult staying awake 'til midday but somehow I managed. At exactly twelve o'clock I threw away the apron and headed towards the stairs, the only wish I had in my head being a possibility to get some sleep.   
  
I stumbled down few steps after bumping into Aya who was coming down the stairs. He glared at me just as I had thought he would and told me to get out of his way. I obeyed nicely, and offered the little cranky redhead some room to pass me by. Just before his feet landed onto the floorboard, I remembered something.  
  
"How's my poem coming up?" I asked with a tired smirk.   
  
"It isn't," he retorted and tried to leave it to that.  
  
"I need it tonight, Aya. I need it-" I took a quick look at my watch "- in about seven hours. Do you think you can do that?"  
  
"Who knows," he said apathetically and tried to leave again.  
  
"Aya, the team'll be down by a member if that poem isn't ready by eight," I informed him, hoping that referring to the possible dysfunction of the team would hit the right button. It did.  
  
"Don't come crying when that fluff of yours, pardon me, -mine- doesn't please your friend," he sighed – Had he been doing that a lot lately, or was I just imagining? – and walked off.  
  
I had to smile to myself, once again. When had Aya become so easy to persuade, anyway? Maybe it was the little, silly romantic inside him that had only searched for its chance and had now found it. I snorted at the idea of Aya on his knees below a balcony uttering mindless yadda-yadda of whole-hearted love to the subject of his desires.   
  
Of course, I could have written the damn poem myself, and it probably would have been the right thing to do, but since my poetic side had been crushed years ago at school after the first poem I had ever written and read out loud, I had found it safer to make a talented amateur to write instead of me.   
  
There had also been a chance that I would have snatched one of Aya's books and quoted some of the poets such as Shakespeare, but I knew my ladyfriend was a dedicated friend of poetry and would definitely notice the fraud. That was when my ass would be grass. Sure, I had been an idiot telling her that I was quite a poet myself – a man who writes poetry and deals with flowers attracts women in mysterious ways – but what wouldn't the infamous Kudou Yoji do in order to get what he wanted from a woman?   
  
After another yawn escaped me I remembered that I had been extremely tired few moments ago and wanted to sleep. Now that I had successfully reminded myself about it, I dragged myself up the stairs, feeling more tired after every step and collapsed straight down to my bed once I was close enough to it to do so without missing the mattress.   
  
~  
  
My inner clock woke me up five minutes before seven, just in time to get ready for my date and to go and threaten Aya if he hadn't even started with the piece of lyricism. I headed to shower, then dried my hair and dressed up. After a quick look into the mirror I brushed my hair a couple times more and when satisfied with the gorgeous man staring back at me from the mirror, winked at it and headed to Aya.   
  
On my way there a silly idea hit me and I laughed inside because of it. It was as if I was taking Aya out. Funny.   
  
I knocked on his door and heard him say something. I took it as an invitation and opened the door I knew was never locked, but only closed. I saw Aya sitting on the windowsill, apparently brooding for some Aya-reason. He looked kind of creepy there, like a ghost of some sort.   
  
I coughed. "My poem?"  
  
He lifted a piece of paper between his fore- and indexfinger, without saying a word; only staring out of the window.  
  
I took a couple steps forward and tried to take the paper, but Aya pulled it back. I shot him a mean glare and demanded for an explanation.   
  
"What will you pay me?" he asked, still staring outside, completely ignoring my presence.  
  
"You can get a sense of a job well-done. That's all I can afford," I told him and tried to grasp the paper again. Aya was good at keeping it out of my reach.   
  
"Then you will get a dream of a poem well-written," he said, very bad attempt of a joke there, and squeezed the paper into a tiny ball.   
  
I made a few calculations in my head and decided that my date would have to be satisfied with a bucket of flowers snatched from our shop. I had to hope that Aya wouldn't notice though.   
  
I sighed, the habit had stuck on me, too, because of Aya, and said: "You can have my flowers."  
  
"What?" he asked, now bothering to look at me. Even though a better description would be 'stare at me in disbelief'.  
  
"In cash, of course," I clarified and handed him the yens I had saved for the bucket.   
  
Always so fond of money, he counted the amount and was seemingly satisfied. I could only imagine that he was considering to start a career as a paid writer. Maybe he could start living a triple life; assassin at night, florist in the morning and a writer in the afternoon. The evenings would be sanctified for counting the money.   
  
In exchange for the money, he handed me the scrambled paper. I read it through a couple of times and had a hard time believing Aya had actually written it. It was short, very fluffy, and exactly what I had requested. Just to be sure, I read it out loud and watched Aya's reaction. If he didn't show any sign of recognition towards the text I would suspect he had copied it from someone.  
  
"What is love?  
  
How can one describe it?" I read. Aya turned his face back towards the window and the view outside.  
  
"To me  
  
Love is what I see when I look at you  
  
When I gaze into your eyes  
  
When I admire your delicate figure," I continued. Was that a faint pink hue on Aya's cheeks I saw?  
  
"When the moon illuminates your being  
  
That is when I know  
  
What love is," I finished and had a little dramatic pause before saying anything else.  
  
Aya was apparently seeing something extremely interesting outside, since his eyes were fixed on something that could be seen from the window. Or maybe he was just marveling at the window pane.   
  
"This is very, very tacky, Aya," I told him and he only nodded.  
  
"Isn't that what you requested?"  
  
"Yeah," I mumbled. "Thanks. I'll tell you what she thinks."  
  
"Don't bother," he told me and I took it as a good moment to leave the room.  
  
As I had already walked out of the door, he called after me and said something I couldn't hear properly. I returned and asked him to say it again.  
  
"Don't even think of stealing flowers from the shop," he repeated.  
  
Damn.  
  
~*~  
  
You can only guess how long it takes me to write a poem like that. Believe it or not I am everything else but a romantic (exception for those little stupid moments every now and then) and it takes me quite some time to get settled as someone else and write the way they might write. Except that Aya wouldn't write like that.  
  
Or would he...?  
  
Reviews still appreciated. 


	4. Consequences

Write It Down  
  
A/N: It's better that you just get used to my slow updates. I don't write without a proper inspiration and it usually takes a while for that to appear. I know, bad way to write. Heard about it a dozen times before. Oh, and by the way. In case it hasn't occurred to someone, this thingy will turn into yaoi at some point.   
  
Anyways, I hope you like this chapter. Next time you get to return to Aya's thoughts. ^^  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Still from Yoji's POV   
  
Chapter 4 : Consequences   
  
The poem did work. It really did, but not quite in the way I would have preferred. The point, in it's original form, had been to lure my ladyfriend into giving her honest opinion about my satin sheets after a closer inspection, but since, as I now noticed, she was very, very stubborn female, the lyricism didn't affect her in that way. True, she melted a little more after every line, but after I had finished she didn't crawl to me over the table and force the poor old me to carry her to my apartment without even paying for the food we ate. No, no, no. She began praising my skills as a writer and made a prediction that I might be the next Shakespeare (at this I made a mental not to deliver the message to Aya and then run before he could slice me with his sword) also telling me never to give up such a gift I had been given.  
  
Worse, even, she asked me if I could tell her more with my poetic phrases. Sometimes I really do cherish the fact that being the biggest ladies' man in all Japan has taught me how to come up with clever explanations in a blink of an eye. To her, I declared that all I felt was put down into those few lines. What would more words do when my feelings were honest and simple?  
  
She melted a little more and I was slowly beginning to fear that there would be nothing left of her after the date had finished. Just a bloody puddle.  
  
So, there I was, parking my car outside Koneko after driving her home and deciding a date for our next dinner. I was smoking my third cigarette after dropping her off and kissing her goodnight and slowly started to feel myself calming down.   
  
It wasn't a bad date anyway. She just was one of those who wanted to take it slow. Damn. I should get a radar for women like her.   
  
I searched through my pockets, hoping to find my key. After few moments of hopeless search I gave up and kicked the wall beside the door. Damn it. The evening was slowly turning into a really bad one.   
  
I took few steps back from the wall and looked through the other three's windows, hoping to see even a faintest sight of life inside. Of course, my night would not have been perfect unless the only one of my teammates still being awake would not have been Aya. I groaned, I cursed and hit my head to the wall before picking up a small rock and throwing it to Aya's window. I prayed to whoever might have been listening that the window would not break.   
  
Luckily, if I had any, the window remained undamaged. Unfortunately, Aya's face, when it finally appeared to the window, was looking quite pissed. I hoped I hadn't woken him up. No normal person would have even stirred in their sleep if someone threw a rock to their window, but Aya, again... Well, he was Aya.  
  
The redhead opened the window and even in the dark I could see him use his patented 'Die-at-this-instant-please'-glare at me. I grinned sheepishly.  
  
"Lost my keys," I declared. Aya looked up to the sky and obviously sighed since his whole being seemed to be somewhat agonized. At least we would never have to fear that Aya didn't get enough oxygen; his casual sighing covered his oxygen needs pretty much entirely.   
  
Aya disappeared from the window and I could see a light lit up in the room and thought that he might actually bother coming down and opening the door for me.   
  
I heard a chink at my feet and looked down. Aya had taken the effort and thrown me his keys. Thanks a lot, Iceman.   
  
"Return them on your way up," he commanded and closed the window. I grimaced at to the windowpane. Stupid, 'I-don't-care-for-others' -Aya.   
  
I finally got the door open and managed to keep the key safe. I could only imagine what Aya would have done to me if I had lost the key. Or rather, where would he hide my corpse if I lost it.   
  
I had an urge to kick something and the first thing in my sight received the honor of being my target. Sadly or not, it was a ceramic flowerpot. Great. Aya would bury me alive for that.   
  
Dragging my being up the stairs and then to Aya's door didn't much get my spirits up. I was living in a place that depressed me. Yay for that.   
  
Trying my best to look calm I knocked at Aya's door. It flew open immediately, revealing a pissed off Aya who had his arm stretched out and palm open, waiting for me to drop the key. If he attempted to annoy me, he succeeded. I looked at him for a while and then threw the key to him. To his face, to be more specific.  
  
While he was still confused and gathering up his strength to 'shi-NE' me I tilted my head sideways and grinned at him.   
  
"Thanks for letting me borrow," I said and slammed the door close.  
  
I really needed a full pack of cigarettes and if that wouldn't do, a bottle of strong alcohol certainly would.   
  
~  
  
The morning brought sunlight and a massive hangover with it. Had 'morning' not been an abstract concept and only a moment during the day I would certainly have strangled it there and then with my wire and the shoot few bullets at its lifeless form.   
  
I have murderous thoughts towards certain times of the day. Great. My sanity is not what it used to be.  
  
I tried to disappear under my covers after taking a quick look at the alarm clock on my table. I had never understood why I had an alarm clock. I never had much use for it anyway.  
  
It was past ten. My shift had begun at nine. Maybe that roaring Omi behind my door had not only been a drunken nightmare.   
  
I fought with my pillow for a moment since it had decided to get attached with my hair and was not planning to let go. After I won the war against the damned thing I still had to get the rest of my being disentangled from my sheets. That was not such a big deal, since I had gotten used to it, but somehow everything felt difficult this morning.   
  
Yawning and feeling my head explode, I slowly made my way to the bathroom, only to be greeted by a terrible, tired creature with a messy hair in the mirror. I splashed water to my face, brushed my hair, causing it to fall off almost entirely due the damned tangles the damned pillow had made into the damned hair and drank some water to get the taste of shit out of my mouth. Toothpaste helped very much with that issue.   
  
Once I had managed to get myself look as decent as possible I put on my sunglasses to cover the pretty bloodshot-green eyes and walked downstairs to be executed.   
  
The fatal strike of a sharp blade never came. All I got was an angry look from Aya whom I –apparently- was supposed to share the first shift with. Who had given me so many mornings anyway?  
  
I didn't need Aya's command to go and clean up the remains of the pot I had shattered last night.  
  
~* TBC *~   
  
You –know- what I would like to see now. In case you don't: does the word 'review' ring a bell? 


	5. Moments

A/N: I am in the middle of non-creative period, but because I don't want to be so slow with updating this fic I had to write something. Forgive me if this stinks. -_-*  
  
An extra note: Unless I manage to rid this non-creativeness before the 22nd, the next chapter won't be up until the early July. I am heading to Italy for a week, so I won't be having an access to Internet in a while. Read the already written chapters again, if you fear you'll forget what has happened.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Aya's POV   
  
Chapter 5 : Moments  
  
Why couldn't Yoji wake up in time, get to work when he was supposed to and not run around the town in godawful hours? A question I probably would never get an answer for. Perhaps I should just have been happy that he actually had bothered to wake up and work.   
  
Mind you, I had a faint bruise between my eyes because of the keys he had thrown to my face, and I had not forgiven him for that. Not that I was planning to do so anytime soon, if ever.  
  
After watching his actions from the corner of my eye for a moment I made a note that he worked when he was pissed. He did real work without anyone having to yell at him for it. Perhaps I should try being extremely bitchy at him every time before his shift began.   
  
In all honesty I was slightly interested in knowing if my poem, that I had not written with any inspiration but purely because I had had to, had received positive feedback. I just didn't want to ask. I trusted that Yoji would tell me if it had. He had the habit of telling me many things just to piss me off. Isn't that a great way to interact with each other? Bitching and bitching back.   
  
Yoji was cleaning up the broken pieces of the pot in an irritatingly slow manner. He picked up one piece, dropped it to the bag he had dug up, picked up another piece, dropped it into the bag and continued this routine. Maybe I was wrong and he wasn't doing actual work, but avoiding it by being so damned slow.   
  
I shook my head slightly and returned to the window I was cleaning. There were absolutely no customers this morning and to kill time I had began my trademark window cleaning. First of all, I liked clean windows. The fingerprints and other stains some messy customers and random co-workers left to the windowpanes were very irritating and needed to be taken care of. Secondly, while washing the windows I was able to look outside and completely ignore pretty much everything that was going on in the shop. Including certain clingy teenagers and random co-workers.   
  
"AYA, GODDAMMIT!" Yoji shrieked next to my ear and almost made me jump out through the window I was cleaning. Instead I just turned around, dropped the washing-cloth into the bucket beside me making the water splash and leave a puddle to the floor next to it. I should clean it up before someone slipped because of it.  
  
"What?" I asked from the obviously very tired and pissed co-worker who was staring at me like a wild beast about to attack an innocent prey.  
  
"You are not listening to me," he declared. "I asked you if you wanted to know about the receiving your mush got, but since it was five minutes ago I assume you don't want to know."  
  
I shrugged and returned to the window. "If you are eager to tell me I can listen," I replied managing to sound like I didn't care.   
  
I heard Yoji turn around and walk into the backroom. After a moment he returned with a mop and a bucket of water. I followed his moves through the reflection in the glass and when he looked like he was about to do floor-cleaning, I had to turn around, blink few times and then just stare. Was he being serious?  
  
"Mopping the floor equals work, Kudou," I informed him, speaking slowly just to be sure he understood what I said.  
  
"I don't equal an idiot, Fujimiya," he retorted.  
  
I stared at him for a moment longer. He had to be pretty pissed off if he was mopping the floor from his own free will.   
  
After another moment of silence had passed with us both concentrating in what we were doing, Yoji spoke up like he was talking to himself.  
  
"You're officially announced to be the next Shakespeare."  
  
I snorted silently. So my bad writing was appreciated. It left me wondering about what the opinion of my good writing would be. My self-proud me lifted his head a little but was silence by my rational self.  
  
"She was just being nice. It's rude to be truthful," I reminded Yoji. His date was probably crazy for him no matter what he wrote. What I wrote, that is. I guessed it would have been even crueler to be truthful if Yoji had written something himself. I didn't quite trust his poetic skills.   
  
"If you wish," he said and sighed. He had obviously copied the gesture from me. He couldn't make it sound so martyr-y, as I could, though.   
  
"I thought it was good, too," he added silently.   
  
I took a look at him through the reflection upon the windowpane and noticed nothing different from the usual. Exception for the mop that proved he was working.   
  
He was just tired.   
  
~  
  
Very much later in the evening I was sitting on the rooftop and staring into the distance. My own window would have worked for the activity as well, but somehow I felt like I needed some fresh air and a more open place.  
  
Yoji had been annoyingly quiet for the whole time he had been in the shop and after our shift had ended he had just sulked back into his apartment, no words said. I was pretty sure he was just developing new ideas of how to irk me.   
  
Why did it bother me anyway? Not that I had ever been interested in knowing about what was bugging who at times, unless that bugging affected the team-work we were supposed to do when on missions.   
  
Car tires screeched somewhere below and the sound made me shiver. It brought unpleasant images to my head.  
  
So I have decided to be nostalgic today, I thought to myself. No matter how the images kept creeping back to me, I didn't feel like remembering. I wanted just to sit there, stare into the distance and do my casual brooding for the day.   
  
I felt like writing but once again I had nothing to write, nor did I have my writing block or pen with me. I leaned back and my sight was fixed to the stars above. It was a clear night, I noticed. Usually there were at least some clouds that blocked the stars from sight but not tonight. The little astral lights were shining like there was no tomorrow and I found myself thinking how beautiful it looked like.   
  
Beautiful?  
  
I sat back up and shook my head. Writing that damned mush-mush had made my brain turn to mush. I had to be careful not to start writing anything like that anymore.   
  
"Stargazing, Aya?"   
  
Yoji.   
  
He had to be kidding me. Had he started to follow me around only to bug me and to make me plan different ways to silence him?  
  
I shook my head again and tugged up the collar of my coat.  
  
"No."  
  
~* TBC *~  
  
I haven't seen the stars from a clear sky in a while. ^^  
  
Reviews still much appreciated. 


	6. Crash

A/N: Ah, that was a quick non-creative period. ^^ I wish all of them would be like that… *sigh*   
  
Am off to Italy now. ^^V   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
  
  
Chapter 6 : Crash  
  
Now I was only glad that Yoji kept his mouth shut. Earlier it had bothered me but now it was a blessing. It was bad enough that he had come up here. It was as if he wanted to bug me, no matter how bad his mood was. And mind you, he had trained himself to be pretty talented in bugging me.  
  
Yes, it was nice, even if a little odd, to be able to listen to the silence even though I knew Yoji was somewhere around. If I didn't think of the fact that he was, I could almost forget it. I had more important matters to think of anyway. Or I at least looked like I did.  
  
Night in the city was somehow a fascinating sight to look at, but what drew my attention even more was the sky. I found myself looking at the stars, again, even though I tried to remain looking silent and ponderous. Stars really were a captivating sight, and they also carried a veil of deep mystery around them.   
  
I rolled my eyes to myself. What the hell was I thinking? A veil of deep mystery? The only explanation to my extremely odd thoughts was, that having written a romantic poem had simply messed up my brain. True, I had used that explanation a good few times earlier that day, but it still worked. At least on me.   
  
"You are stargazing," Yoji suddenly said, with a victorious tone in his voice. He earned my 'you-are-not-worthy-to-receive-the-full-death-glare'-glare, that I rarely used but that I knew had exactly the right effect; it left those who had received it wondering what its meaning was. Sometimes I really thought about writing an info-booklet for creating working glares for oneself. It would make a nice extra income aside from the florist/assassin pay that I already made.   
  
"I can assure you that I am not," I declared -very clearly- to the blonde, hoping he would leave me alone now.  
  
"Then why were you looking to the sky and looking like you were daydreaming?" Yoji asked innocently.  
  
I really, really wanted to kill him there and then. He obviously couldn't sense the times when he should just have remained silent and un-irritating.   
  
"Yes, I was looking to the sky, true. But I certainly was not daydreaming." I had begun to count to ten to remain calm and to keep myself from throwing Yoji off the roof.   
  
A brief silence passed and I enjoyed every second of it. I wished that Yoji had remained silent and moping, anyway. Even if it had seemed more than a little out of character of him, it was a change to a better direction and everyone would surely have gotten used to it.   
  
"You know, I am having another date next Friday-" Yoji began but I cut him off before he had finished the sentence.   
  
"NO! A strict and absolute no. I am not going to write a single line of that sap anymore," I told him and gave him a warning death glare. Next time it would be full 'shi-NE!!'.  
  
Yoji shrugged and lit up a cigarette. After he had inhaled a deep and obviously enjoyable amount of those toxins from it he said: "Fine." And remained silent.  
  
It was fine with me too. Very much so. Now that the silence had returned, I could lift my gaze up to the sky again. The stars were still there.  
  
I don't know how long it had been that I had wondered the lights in the sky, but suddenly a shiver went down my spine. It was because I saw a shooting star fall down to the horizon. At first I couldn't quite put my finger on the feeling that the sight brought with it, but then, as suddenly as I had noticed the falling star, I remembered how Aya-chan and I had often went outdoors on a clear night to wait and see if there were any shooting stars, so she could have wished for what ever she happened to be wishing for at the moment.   
  
I guess it was the memory that made me smile a little. It could as well have been the star, too, but it was more safe thinking that the memory was guilty for the slight smile I had on my face.   
  
I looked quickly towards Yoji, and saw from the corner of my eye, that he had a faint smile playing upon his lips, too. Maybe he, also, had memories that had something to do with shooting stars. He turned his head as slightly as I had, apparently to look at me. I barely saw his face, but still there was an eye contact, and for a while I could have sworn that he winked.   
  
At this I frowned and turned away. I had just smiled at Yoji. Damnit. What was wrong with me nowadays?   
  
My self-control told me that now would be a good time to leave the roof and go and sleep this brief mental distraction off.   
  
~  
  
I was awake as early as always, not feeling myself too tired to get up and go and get some good black coffee to start my day with. Trusting that there would be no other living being awake inside the household I left my room in my worn out pants and oversized T-shirt I spend my nights in.   
  
Once I was walking down the stairs I was lost in my thoughts and didn't hear someone rushing up the stairs and when I did, it was too late. I was hit by that person and we both lost our balance because of the crash and stumbled down the stairs in a very painful manner.  
  
I hit the floor first and Yoji, as I had recognized him now by his cursing, landed on top of my right side and arm. We both heard a nasty snap, but I was the only one who felt the sudden, stabbing pain. I bit my lip and swallowed the yelp I was about to let out.   
  
Yoji rubbed his head and moaned: "I think I broke something..."  
  
Congratulations, Einstein. I cursed him mentally and afterwards verbally, too. It wasn't enough that he had crashed into me, now was it?  
  
"Yes, you idiot! My arm!" I wheezed. It wasn't any help having Yoji's entire being atop of the snapped limb.   
  
It was as if something had stung Yoji since he literally jumped up from the floor and then kneeled back down to help me get up. Of course, it would not have been Yoji if he hadn't tried to take hold of my broken arm to get me up. A verbal, rather sincere curse made him realize that he should switch arms.  
  
"Did it really break?" he asked, a weird worried tone in his voice, when he examined the promising bruise just above my elbow.   
  
"No, of course not. It snapped and hurts like hell, just because it tends to do so every now and then," I replied to his utmost idiotic question and bit my lip again. Why the hell did it have to be my sword-arm?  
  
As I tried my best to hold my arm still with Yoji running around me in circles and randomly poking the bruise, I heard footsteps from the stairs. Apparently the noise had concerned Omi and Ken and they had decided to come and see what was wrong.  
  
"Aya-kun! What happened?" Omi asked when he noticed my arm and agonized look.   
  
"A little accident," I explained, "Yoji ran into me in the stairs and we both fell."  
  
"It wasn't entirely my fault! You were daydreaming and didn't see nor hear me coming," Yoji protested, trying obviously to bring up the fact that he had absolutely nothing to do with this whole incident. Except that it wasn't a fact.  
  
Omi had made a quick inspection to my arm and came to the same conclusion as I had; it was broken, no doubt there. He had the situation under control in no time and after he had re-arranged our shifts for the day he commanded me to go and get my arm popped back into place by professionals.   
  
"I'll make a brief phone call, and you'll be in shape in no time!" the kid said cheerfully and ran off to make his 'brief phone call'. Few minutes later he was back and made us all clear what the exceptional arrangements for the day would be.   
  
"Yoji, you drive Aya to the hospital, they're expecting him, there," he ordered, after he had told that Ken would stay and take care of the shop alone for a while, after he himself had gone to school.   
  
"But-" Yoji tried, but failed.  
  
"No buts. It was partially your fault, you are the only one of us who owns a car and is able to drive it at the moment."  
  
Yoji tried to come up with a proper excuse but after few worthless tries he stomped away angrily, returned after a while, grabbed my arm (I had to curse him to the deepest Hell before he realized to take hold of the healthy arm) and with mumbling I understood nothing of, walked to his car, dragging me along.   
  
This was going to be a long day, I predicted.   
  
Shit, the arm hurt.  
  
~* TBC *~  
  
Wonder how it was that easy to get to the hospital without having to wait for, lets say, until midnight? One word: Kritiker. Omi makes a phone call, and they're most likely waiting for Aya with red carpets and limousines. Or something to that effect. Maybe not that visible. Heh..   
  
Reviews very much appreciated. 


	7. Screech

A/N: I'm ba~ck! ^^V I didn't boil to death, even though it was near. Now I'm shivering because it's way colder back here at home than it was in Sorrento.   
  
Ah, anyways, this chapter was planned in a train from Naples to Rome and written by the pool in our hotel. Not that anyone is interested, but I'm telling it to you anyway.  
  
Chapter 7 : Screech   
  
Yoji POV  
  
Aya had bitched and whined and moaned through the whole damn time it took to drive to the hospital. Of course, he had done it silently; he hadn't been Aya if he hadn't, but loud enough to make sure I heard him. Okay, so it had partially been my fault that his arm had snapped like that, and I did feel guilty about it, but there really had been a little of Aya's fault too. As I told Ken and Omi, our vicious leader had been daydreaming and so hadn't bothered to keep an eye or two on his surroundings and possible other people running up the stairs.   
  
Why was I running? Easy, the night before, when Aya had fled the rooftop after the little shooting star episode and left me alone in there, I had decided to go and get rid of the bad taste the date the night before had left and jumped into my car, driving into the nearest bar.   
  
I hadn't been tired, that's why I had driven off, and I certainly wasn't tired when I came back the next morning (I don't drink and drive, that's why it took such a long time to get there. Walking when you're more than a little tipsy can be very amusing. Until the pavement hits your face. That didn't happen to me this time, mind you. I just left my car by the bar sometime around 4 AM and began walking back 'home'.), if a little weary.   
  
I wasn't tired even now, when I sat in the hospital cafe playing with my life by drinking their black coffee that tasted awful. The taste anyhow, was a little thing when I thought about the amount of caffeine I could get out from the single cup. I went to get another cupful of the stuff, after I was sure it didn't and wouldn't kill me.   
  
Killing automatically reminded me of Aya and the lecture he would give me after he got out from the hands of Kritiker. They had been waiting for him when we came, a couple of ordinary looking doctors, and with no questions asked, taken him with them. I remained in the lobby for a while and after it seemed that Aya would stay wherever he was for quite a while I had dragged my being into the cafe. I was in no hurry to get back to Koneko and to work. The time away from duties like that was the time in Heaven, and I had decided to experience it now. In afterlife it would not have been possible.   
  
I emptied my second cup of the probably poisonous liquid (that apparently didn't have effect on me) and walked back to the lobby. There was a nice chance for me to take a little nap while waiting for the redhead to return. Now you're thinking that I was being nice. I wasn't. I could have left Aya there in his hideous pajama-combination (Where the hell had he dug those things up from, anyway? All that was missing were the pink bunny-slippers.), but just as mentioned, I am the lazy bastard Aya thinks I am and used the chance to slip from work.   
  
There was another reason, too. Just as I thought that glaring Aya was a funny sight, I couldn't turn down the chance to see a defeated looking, painkiller dulled Aya. Anything but the 'I'm the ice-queen of the world'-Aya was nice to look at. The thought was just too tempting.   
  
I had barely managed to close my eyes, when I heard a door open in somewhere in the end of the hallway. I opened my eyes, blinked a couple of times and then stretched my neck to see if it was Aya. Hurray for my assassin instincts. The said man was walking towards the lobby (I don't say 'towards me', because that was not what he did.) with his arm neatly in a cast and a somewhat fuzzy expression on his face.  
  
"I can assure you, that if you say a word you will be making a lovely stuffed decoration on the wall of Villa White," he informed me and walked past, like I didn't exist.   
  
"You think I'm lovely?" I had to ask him with a stupid grin. He glared slow and torturous death to me.   
  
I led him to the car and even opened the door for him, receiving a little less intimidating glare as his thanks to me. He sat down to the passenger seat and remained nice and quiet for a change. Of course, that non-bitching Aya was too good to last and it wasn't long until he started throwing rather unfriendly comments towards me. I replied whenever I felt like it and however I felt like, and that, apparently, annoyed Aya. He had a short, ponderous pause before he said:  
  
"Pull the car over. I want to punch you."  
  
Of course I laughed at him. What else could I have done when someone blurted out such an idiotic order?  
  
"I'm serious, Kudou," he told me and I was surprised that this little note was not accompanied by a glare of any kind.  
  
I rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm not. And I am not going to pull over. I'd like to keep myself away from clenched fists, thank you very much," I said with a more than a little sardonic voice.   
  
It was a bad move. A really, really bad move at that. Comments like that usually didn't much move Aya, but this time, I swear, I saw the steam rising from his ears. I nearly had a heart attack and died at the instant, because Aya kicked away my foot and pushed the breaks with everything he could get out from his feet in the manner to get us both killed. I had no choice but to grip the steering wheel like crazy, just to keep us alive.   
  
When the car finally stopped with a screech, I nearly flew through the windshield (seatbelts are a good invention, kids). My heart was beating like there was no tomorrow and my mouth formed many, many different kinds of words that described what an ass, exactly, Aya was.   
  
Aya didn't listen. He calmly opened his door and walked out of the car, gesturing me to do the same. I obeyed, even though I knew it would have been safer to stay in the car.   
  
"Yes...?" I asked, keeping a good distance to Aya, hoping that he didn't have his katana hidden in his pajama pantleg. Not that he would have been able to use it too well, though, but this is Aya, anyhow, that we're talking about, here.   
  
"The moment I had the Sword with me, you would be dead, Kudou," he told me, his words accompanied by a one of his darkest, coldest death-glares that made even me shiver. "But sadly, I don't, so I will have to come up with another way to torture you."  
  
I had absolutely no idea what he had in mind and that was why I didn't dare to say a word. I kept praying, that what was expecting me would only be a lecture of sorts instead of a throughout abuse álà Fujimiya Aya.   
  
"Can you tell me why I am so pissed, right now?" Aya asked. He sounded like a school-bully who had driven his victim into a corner and was now demanding him to give up his lunch-money. Maybe Aya had had a traumatic childhood or youth. Before he started killing, that is.   
  
I thought for a moment before answering and tried to wipe away every possible hint of sarcasm from my voice.  
  
"Because you already despise me from before for reasons unknown and because I broke your sword arm," I admitted humbly. Then something came into my mind and I mentally hit my head into a brick wall a couple of dozen times for it. "You don't happen to use you right hand while writing, do you?" I asked carefully. Aya nodded.  
  
Well shit. I was absolutely positive that he hated me above everything living and breathing at the moment. He had to. I would have.  
  
I sighed and raised my hands in surrender.   
  
"I know it's the one and the same for you if I say I'm sorry, but I really am. Not only because I broke the damn arm, but because I know exactly how long the team will be disable because of it. My fault," I admitted.  
  
There was a surprised expression on Aya's face. Another one to be added to my 'Aya's expressions that I like' collection.   
  
Maybe it was because of his confused look that I dared to take few steps forward to face him, who knows. I tried to look as sincere as possible and even put my hand on his shoulder, even though I knew about the existence of the possibility to be beaten up for touching him. I knew that he would at least shrug me off.   
  
The first surprise was, that he didn't.  
  
  
  
The second was his reply:  
  
"Apology accepted."  
  
Sometimes Aya really scared the crap out of me and this really was one of those times.  
  
After having said what he had said, Aya shrugged me off and walked back into the car, remaining quiet for the rest of the drive back to Koneko.   
  
~* TBC *~  
  
What's with all the side-comments? Easy to explain. I'm reading Nick Hornby's 'How to be Good' at the moment (great book, everyone go and read it!) and the style is kind of catchy... ^^*   
  
Reviews would be especially appreciated! 


	8. Oddities

A/N: Exactly a week. Since the last update, that is. And no inspiration to speak of. Therefore I am sorry if this chapter sounds a little forced, because it is. The basic idea came to me last night just before falling to sleep and had disappeared almost entirely in the morning. My ideas are cruel.   
Anyway, read on and leave a review!  
  
~*~*~*~*~  
  
Aya POV  
  
Chapter 8 : Oddities  
  
'What would it feel like  
To fall asleep  
Under the setting sun;  
Love beside you  
The World around you?  
  
What would it feel like  
To wake up  
Under a cloudless sky;  
Love beside you  
The World around you?'  
  
There were two things I didn't believe when I read the text through. First was that I had actually written it. The second was that I had actually taken the effort and written it with my left hand in slow motion. If I had been sane I would just have laughed at the stupid idea that popped out from my head and demanded to be put down to paper. But no, either it was the painkillers or I really was becoming a softy. The text was there. I refuse to call it a poem, since it would insult the term 'poetry' in the worst way.  
  
I sat on my bed and kept staring at the paper in my hands. Hand. The other one was pretty much useless at the moment, thanks to Yoji who I swore to despise eternally, forevermore. At this we shall forget certain things I might have said under some brief mental disorder the day before. Accepting an apology and forgiving aren't exactly the same thing, right?  
  
I had used the word 'love' twice in the sad excuse of a poem I had written. Twice. Me. I never even spoke it out loud, let alone wrote it. Exception for certain pieces of lyricism I was asked and then paid to write, of course.   
  
What was wrong with me nowadays, I could only wonder. It was as if a part of me I had desperately tried to keep under control and invisible had suddenly made itself visible and caused everything to get messed up in my head. Once I could put my finger on the cause of this, I would make sure it wouldn't do it ever again.  
  
I crumpled up the paper the text was on and threw it into the direction of the trashcan. I decided to start practicing the move with my left hand too, since the paper fell far from its attempted target. Damn Yoji.   
  
I sat up and the left the bed, elegantly hitting my right elbow to the bedpost in the process. I had to bite my lip to keep myself from yelling too loudly, and so keep my personal nurse, Omi, from running into the room and demanding what had happened. Ever since he had come back from school the day before, he had taken it as his duty to take care that I was not in pain and was otherwise all right. Believe me, it was annoying.   
  
Sun shone outside. If I had been my typical self I would just have shrugged the fact off and went to someplace dark, but as mentioned, I wasn't. Anything would have been a nice place to go instead of having to stay in the same damned room to wait for the damned arm to heal properly.   
  
Omi had finally yielded to let me work in the shop and to mind the cash register (Anything else would have been too hazardous to do.). I had accepted the job and successfully spent the morning behind the counter. Just the morning, that was. In the afternoon, I would have been able to stay in the shop, if there were no concerned high-school aged customers. They had literally driven me out of the shop and into my room.  
  
So there I was, boring myself to death and wishing I could've done something instead of the nothing.   
  
Maybe my boredom was the cause of the poetry-mocking piece of text. Yes, that had to be it. In order to do something I had allowed myself to write exactly what had come to mind, no matter how pathetic it was. I really was becoming a softy. No time and I would be caught smiling for no apparent reason. No, wait, that already happened.   
  
Dammit.   
  
My surroundings were making me act oddly.   
  
I sighed deep enough to empty my lungs and walked out of the room. No matter how many screaming teenagers, I had to do something normal.  
  
~  
  
"Aya-kun!" Omi's exclamation was most likely supposed to sound surprised but I caught a hint of relief in it, probably because any extra-help was welcome. I nodded and the headed to the cash register to shoo Ken to help the other intact people.   
  
During the next fifteen minutes I had to explain multiple times what had happened to my arm and to listen at least as many 'get well soon' s. I also had to roar to the brats either to buy something and stop poking my arm or leave the building, which as usual, only made them squeal and attach themselves more firmly to my being.   
  
The worst of it was over after a time that felt like an eternity and I could finally breathe. The shop was supposed to be open for another hour and just to keep myself away from writing I offered to stay until that. After a flood of questions and worrying over the state of my arm Omi told me I could stay. Not that I would have obeyed if he had denied me to.   
  
"I'm not letting you stay alone, though," Omi informed just as I was about to sigh for relief. Sometimes the kid worried a little too much for his own good. He would end up having gray hair in the age of twenty.  
  
"Yoji can stay here," Omi said and with that he was off.   
  
Perfect. Just perfect. Everything I needed anymore for the afternoon was Yoji's company. There had to be some damned, twisted scheme planned for me, otherwise, I'm quite sure, the day would have been just like any other, with nothing unusual.   
  
But no, someone was planning to make me either to crack or to turn into a total ... weirdo.   
  
Having no other choice but to accept the fact that a day that had begun badly would end badly, I sat down with a sigh of frustration.  
  
"Do you have asthma?"  
  
I turned, very slowly, to look at Yoji who had flipped a large flowerpot upside-down and was now sitting on it.   
  
"No," I said slowly. The blonde was stupid; he needed to be spoken clearly to.   
  
"Why do you sigh so much then?"  
  
Now I just stared at Yoji. Was he trying to annoy me or was he serious, I couldn't tell. Either way, the question was stupid and didn't have a proper answer. I let it remain so.   
  
"Are you still mad at me?" Yoji asked, his voice blank. He actually did sound pretty convincing; he had to have been practicing that tone.   
  
"Yes, pretty much," I admitted and leaned back in my chair. I think Yoji's face fell at my comment.   
  
"I though you forgave me."  
  
I grinned to myself. Just a little, though, mind you. Wasn't this what I had just though about, few hours back? Now I had to think about it again. Earlier I had come to the conclusion that accepting an apology and forgiving were not the same thing and now I doubted if the thing really was so.   
  
I had accepted Yoji's apology and with that I had accepted the fact that he had apologized and was sorry. I hadn't said that I had forgiven him. The conclusion was the same now as it had been earlier; forgiving and accepting an apology were not the same thing. They had just been made to sound like it.   
  
"I accepted the apology," I told to Yoji, too. If he would demand further explanations he would receive my recent philosophy of the differences between two very similar concepts.   
  
"That's the same thing," Yoji told me. I didn't pour him the whole explanation but shortly told him the basic idea. He stared at me as if I had a third eye or something to the same effect.   
  
"How much painkillers have you taken?" he asked me. I had an urge to stick my tongue out at him, but I held it back. I would have been dragged to psychiatric ward at the instant if I had. Maybe the idea wasn't so bad; I had written a 'poem' where the word 'love' appeared two times, anyhow.   
  
"I wrote a mush-poem from my own free will," I informed Yoji. This caused him stare at me like I had an extra-arm and two extra-eyes in my being.   
  
"I repeat the previous question."  
  
"One, I think. And that was several hours' back. My reaction to it was similar, though.  
  
"To the painkiller or to the poem?"  
  
Yoji didn't need an answer. He wasn't that stupid anyhow. I was thinking against my previous theories, I noticed. I had to grin at that, too. Not so little this time.   
  
Yoji shook his head. "Who are you and what have you done to Aya?"  
  
"Fujimiya Ran and nothing," I replied without actually thinking about it.   
  
"Ran?"  
  
I bit my lip. Idiot. Perfect idiot.  
  
"Aya. I said Aya," I tried to cover but Yoji didn't accept it.   
  
"No, you said Ran," he insisted and I felt like being caught in a mousetrap. "Is that what your real name is?"  
  
I had no choice. Whatever greater force had forced me to do absolutely stupid things I wouldn't otherwise have done had once again driven me to a dead-end I had no escape from. I sighed and uttered a defeated "Yes."  
  
"And you blurted it out just like that," Yoji said, as if I hadn't already noticed. He shook his head again. "You are not yourself, today."  
  
I nodded in acceptance. " I completely agree."  
  
~* TBC *~  
  
Le Sigh. I had a completely different scene planned for the previous, but since I found another fic that had the same idea, I didn't want to 'steal' it. I think this one works just as well.   
  
Revie~w! ^^ 


	9. Rusty

A/N: The Japanese word 'ran' has at least three meanings that I am aware of and it would be almost impossible to know which one of them Aya's name means without seeing it written, but we shall now ignore the fact or at least think Yoji's good at guessing. I know the meaning; I have seen it written, so trust me here. ^^  
I have to tell the background of this chapter, once again. Heh... Okay, I wrote the basic idea of this in the dark and nearly asleep after having watched anime for four hours in a row. It was very challenging to figure out what the hell I had been trying to say, once I woke up in the morning. Or afternoon, more likely... Yes, on with the story!  
  
~*~*~*~*~   
  
Chapter 9 : Rusty  
Yoji's POV  
  
Ran. A fragile little flower? The redhead's parents certainly hadn't had the skill to predict the future; otherwise they would have picked quite different name for their son. 'Ran', orchid, somehow didn't suite him, the person he now was. I didn't know what he had been like long ago - maybe the name had looked better on him, back then, but now... No. I couldn't consider Aya being Ran, all of a sudden. Even though it had been obvious from the start that his real name was not Aya - I of all people should know it, I sort of gave the name to him - I had learned to think of it as the most suitable name for him. He never had written it with kanji, but katakana, but still I had connected the two syllables with 'ayashii', dubious, because that certainly was what the redhead was. Always watching his back.   
  
Who was Aya, then? I remembered trying to guess it the first time I had met - Ran. That was when I had carried his unconscious being into my apartment and stayed up all night watching if he was breathing or not. When he had woken up he had nearly torn my shirt because I had asked him -apparently- personal questions about 'Aya'. It had half been a joke, suggesting that I could call him Aya. No one had dared to say a word against it, and so the name had lived.   
  
I snapped my fingers when I remembered something. (Aya gave me an odd look at this, but I didn't bother to explain.)  
  
// I handed a katana and a key to Ken, and to his questioning look I replied:  
  
"For Aya."  
  
"Aya?" he asked, still the same questioning expression on.   
  
"That's what you should call the guy from yesterday."  
  
"But isn't that the name of his sister?" Ken asked, but I ignored him. "I think she's in coma," he added.  
  
"I have no idea. Just give those things to him. Good night!" //  
  
Cheers for me for realizing the meaning of something years after that something had happened. One of the moments I felt sorry for not being PI anymore. My skills were getting rusty.   
  
How Ken had known or supposed that the redhead had a sister named Aya who was sleeping comatose sleep, I did not know, nor did I have the time or will to think about it at the moment. I was particularly interested in knowing more about the well-kept secrets that Aya kept from us others. The wide-awake Aya, that was.   
  
"Is she your sister?" I asked carefully, hoping that Aya wouldn't attack me like he had done when I had first questioned about the mysterious 'Aya' person.   
  
He did nothing but glanced sideways and then stood up, walking to the door of the flower shop and turning the 'Open' sign to 'Closed'.   
  
"It is not your concern," he then replied and walked away. A moment after he came back, left his apron behind and left again, apparently deep in his thoughts.   
  
I remained still in my place, half-heartedly digging up a cigarette and then lighting it up. I felt like sharpening my PI skills and the process required some peace and a full pack of cigarettes. The latter one I could not provide, but at least I had the peace. At least in the rooftop.   
  
I stood up, closed the shutters Aya had left open and walked up the stairs, making my way up to the highest place of the building with the most silent surroundings.   
  
I always liked being there, high above the city. Well, a rooftop of a flower shop with two floors of apartments can't be that high, but at least it was much above the ground and therefore could be considered being high above something. The pavements and park benches, anyhow.  
  
I blew a cloud of smoke into the air and watched it drifting away. I knew I had left a trail behind me and once Aya or Omi would notice I had smoked in the shop they would team up and give me a lecture about killing the plants. But it wasn't my concern at the moment. My concern was the oddly behaving exhibit A. Why, I had no idea. Maybe I didn't have anything better to do and wanted to use my spare time thinking about my teammates' pasts and the consequences of them. Maybe I just wanted to know about Aya. Maybe it was something else, but I just didn't allow myself to admit it out loud.   
  
It was late afternoon, I informed myself. Very important piece of information. I might have though it was early night. I had no idea what the time of the day had to do with anything, but settled with the answer that it was to distract my thoughts from Aya who was not Aya, but Ran, and who was a brother of a girl named Aya who was most likely in coma. Difficult thought, but somehow made very much sense.   
  
There was a low rumble, which I recognized as a sound of an upcoming thunder. It was about time, too. The yearly months-lasting rain was late.   
  
I put out the cigarette and threw the butt down from the roof. I felt like staying and waiting for the rain to come, and to see the flashes of lightning in the horizon. I wasn't too fond of the rain, but thunderstorms were too beautiful to miss.   
  
Slowly the raindrops began falling down from the skies, and along with them the scenery turned to shades of gray and the clouds hung heavy in the air. Then came the flashes lightning and lit up the gray skies with their electric light.   
  
I sat still and enjoyed the show.  
  
~  
  
"Are you doing this on purpose?"  
  
I opened my eyes and was faced with Omi's concerned expression. He was sitting on a chair beside my bed where I was laying under the covers, and along with concern there was frustration in his look.  
  
"Terrorizing the team," he added.  
  
"What?" was all I could say. It pretty much represented everything there was going on in my mind. I glanced at my watch. It was way past nine and with a quick look out from the window I saw that it wasn't raining anymore. What the hell?  
  
Omi rolled his eyes. "For a reason I don't know, you were sitting outside, in the rain on the rooftop and refused to come back inside. You claimed that you could make it by yourself. As you can see, you couldn't and now you'll probably come down with a really evil flu and will have to stay still for few weeks."  
  
"What?" I repeated. I had no idea what Omi was talking about. I agreed with him in the fact that I had sat in the rooftop and in the rain, but the rest of what he had said sounded really distant.   
  
'What would it feel like to sleep in the thunderstorm?' A faint vision of having fallen asleep reached out to my memory, but didn't want to become any clearer. From that faint image, I figured that I had fallen asleep in the rain and had been dragged back inside.  
  
"Details. What the hell happened?"  
  
Omi shook his head. "You just insisted to stay outside and when we didn't hear from you in a long time Aya-kun dragged you back in."  
  
Weird. Very weird. Almost surreal. I was almost sure I would wake up any moment with a lovely little headache.   
  
"Tell Aya to get his ass in here," I ordered. When Omi tried to argue I cut the arguments short and told him I would go to Aya myself if Omi wouldn't get him come to me.   
  
A brief quarrel later Omi left the room and after a moment Aya was standing in the doorway, glaring at me, trying to keep his arms folded but only managing to look pretty amusing because of the broken, wrapped arm.   
  
"What?" he asked.  
  
"My words exactly."  
  
"You passed out, I dragged you back in. What's there to discuss?"  
  
"We would be even if you had dragged me into your bed," I grinned, reminding him of the rather alike incident few years back.   
  
"Shut up and sleep. You might want to cancel that date of yours; you won't be going anywhere in at least a week, if it's up to Omi."  
  
I stared at Aya. "You remember I have a date? You suggest me to cancel it?"  
  
"I am not the one with the tendency to memory-losses," Aya informed me and turned to leave.  
  
"I didn't say anything, did I? When I was out cold, I mean. "  
  
Aya stopped, as if thinking what to answer. Then he shook his head. "No. Nothing."   
  
~* TBC *~   
  
Guess twice if Yoji said something... Yeah, I think the next chapter will be the last, most likely. Don't begin crying yet. Instead, leave a review! ^^ 


	10. Peace

A/N: This is it, folks: the final chapter. *wipes away tears of relief* Ten weeks of my time I have spent with this thing, and I am almost surprised how interesting it has been. Yes, I am late from my usual updating time and I have no excuse except being lazy. ^^*   
  
You know, finally finishing this thing is my own birthday present for myself. Tomorrow (the 23rd) is my b-day. *hint hint* ^^ Hey, my sign is Leo, I am supposed to be full of myself and always seeking for attention. Blame the stars.  
  
Yes, enough of this babble. Enjoy the chapter! (That's an order!)  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Chapter 10 : Peace  
  
Aya POV  
  
I moved the flowerpots from one location to another, just to keep myself busy and my thoughts in something meaningful rather than having them wandering on their own into subjects they were not supposed bring up. It was only moments before the shop would close and there were absolutely no customers around. That was why I had shooed the other two from the shop and assured them that I could do the rest of the ship on my own.   
  
Sometime around noon when I had come to the shop and offered my much-needed help, Omi had began pounding me with questions. He wanted to know if Yoji and I were conspiring to destroy the team since we were the only ones whose condition wasn't too much for the nighttime job. Not that Yoji was able or allowed to work by days either. I'm almost convinced that he enjoyed being sick and away from something as bothersome as work.   
  
I told Omi that there were no conspiracies going on and the unfortunate incidents had been exactly those: incidents. He then brought up the 'rather unhealthy relationship' between me and Yoji. At this I only stared at him. Having, Yoji, me and the word relationship put into one sentence somehow made me shiver. For horror if I may guess.   
  
I refused to talk about the subject any further.   
  
Being alone with my mind was exactly what I needed. I had to gather my thoughts together since they had been a little astray lately, but for some reason I was pushing the task away every time it crossed my mind. I just wasn't too thrilled about thinking about anything at the moment, no matter how important it would have been.   
  
I had noticed it when Omi had attacked me with his flow of questions. After he had stopped I had actually began to think of reasonable replies to them and noted that most of them were very intimidating. Something I would never have admitted to anyone out loud and wouldn't admit even to myself. They were things that were supposed to stay in the back of my mind hidden with more reasonable thoughts.   
  
I took a quick look outside and looked for anyone who looked like a potential customer. Since there was no one who looked like it I simply turned the 'open' sign to 'closed' and then – very slowly, because of only being able to use my another arm, thanks to certain person I who still hadn't completely forgiven – closed the shutters.  
  
Time to think was what I needed. Time to think on my own. I needed a quiet place that allowed me the feeling that I was far from the others. There was only one place like that in the building and that would be the place I would go to.   
  
I untied my apron and neatly put it on its place. Quickly I swept some lonely flower petals and leaves away from the floor and cleaned the counters. Some of the flowerpots I had been moving earlier weren't in their correct places and I had to move them somewhere else. Once I was sure nothing was left in disorder, I left the shop and headed towards my often-used hideout.  
  
~  
  
Why had I spent such a great deal of time during the past days just sitting on the rooftop looking up to the stars or down to the city? What was it that kept me going up there and just remaining silent? The peace, the quiet, perhaps? It was always so silent up there that it almost felt being away from the Real World. The hell, I was trying to run from reality; that was why I kept climbing up there, near the stars. When had I begun trying to escape the Real World? What the hell had happened to me in the past week?  
  
I took few steps towards the edge of the roof and sat down there. Close enough to fall if I made a wrong move, but far enough to be safe if I didn't. On the edge of something high was where I had been balancing for the past years of my life; always about to fall, but stubbornly holding onto something precious to me.   
  
Starting from a week back, I had written multiple lines of prose and two poems which both included the word love. I had also had my arm broken, told Yoji what my true name was and later that day dragged the said man away from the storm where he had been sitting like a corpse. Two of those I could explain; the first poem that spread out the word love was written because I was told to, and my arm was broken because of Yoji. The causes of the other incidents were a bit blurry, even to me.   
  
Well, the second crappy poem could be explained too. I was pretty sure of it. It had simply demanded to be put down to paper and if I hadn't obeyed the demand those lines would have kept repeating themselves inside my head and I would slowly have lost the last remaining bits of my sanity.   
  
Telling Yoji my real name had been a sincere slip. I never had intended to tell my true name to anyone, least to Yoji. I could also blame the painkillers for making my tongue slip even though I had only taken one of them that day and that had been several hours before the conversation.  
  
Dragging an unconscious man away from the rain when my arm was broken? My motive to that was more than just a little unclear. I could simply have left him out there to be frozen, and that most likely would have received great cheers from everyone, but no. I had to risk the healing of the shattered bones and get him inside.   
  
Why, oh, why?  
  
What he had said while in the edge on consciousness had pretty much answered the question, but I wanted to find a more reasonable explanation. I needed a realistic answer.  
  
"Do you have use for company?"  
  
I turned slightly, even though I already knew who it was. Yoji sat down to my left with a huge blanket wrapped around himself.   
  
"No," I replied.  
  
"Oh. I'll just shut up then."  
  
I turned my eyes to the city below, to all the lights that competed with the starlight. I needed distraction. If I wanted a realistic answer to the last unsolved mystery Yoji was not good to have around, ex-detective or not.   
  
"In every detail, what happened yesterday?" Yoji asked from somewhere under his blanket. He had had an official permission not to do any work that morning, and I still was ready to bet money that he had enjoyed every moment of it, not caring about the cold he had caught.   
  
I took my time to consider whether or not to answer the question. What was there to tell about, anyhow? He had been sitting in the rain, as explained multiple times, and I had just dragged him back inside.  
  
"I don't want the basic idea, I want the details. Why did you drag me inside?"  
  
I still didn't answer. He was asking the same thing as I had and I still didn't have the realistic answer. I, apparently, had to settle with the unrealistic one, I realized.  
  
"Because," I paused and after a while continued, "I didn't want to leave you to freeze. Any more than you already had, that is."   
  
Yoji was silent and I didn't want to turn around and see the big, smug grin on his face. I kept my gaze in the horizon.  
  
I had been humiliated and confused more in the past few days than in the past few years and I wanted to speak out the cause of it. It would have been so easy just to say that I did this and that because of something.   
  
"You... I don't know, maybe you were conscious, maybe not, but-" I felt something on my shoulder and turned to look what it was.  
  
Yoji's head, or more likely what was visible from it, was resting against my shoulder and the man himself was asleep.   
  
I smiled to myself.   
  
"You called out for Ran," I finished the sentence I had begun. How amusing was this? It was almost hilarious, if you asked me.   
  
At the same time – no matter if I admitted it or not – it was even more peaceful than it had been before. Us two sitting there like that.  
  
I moved my arm a little, just to get it wrapped around Yoji's shoulder to pull him a little bit closer to me. I moved few strands of hair away from his forehead and planted a soft kiss there. Something that felt right to do at the moment.   
  
Even if just a fleeting second I didn't feel anything concerning me. It was as if all the sadness from my past had been wiped away and the ice from my present melted. I didn't care what my future would be, because there was the moment.  
  
And that was all I had.  
  
That, if something, was certainly something worth writing down.   
  
~* FIN *~  
  
There you have it! My teeth ache after having written the second scene, but that's only an excuse for me to start with a sequel someday. Wiping away the fluff, that is. *evil grin*  
  
Ah, and now, this is the last chance so revie~w! 


End file.
